


cookies!

by a_paper_crane



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth Rotting Fluff, and is a weird and awkward father figure, i guess?, not really but theres emotions in the middle section, patton makes puns, sorry - Freeform, theyre bad at it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_paper_crane/pseuds/a_paper_crane
Summary: "Oh, are you two baking?  I'm so glad to see you getting along!  What's in the oven?"  He bounces over and turns on the oven light to glance inside.  His investigation reveals little, and it takes Virgil's hoarse response for him to figure it out."Cookies.  Chocolate chip.  They, uh, aren't looking too hot."
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	cookies!

Virgil grins, and Roman can’t help but think how cute he looks. 

There’s flour in his hair, making it a soft white. It covers the front of his shirt, too, and dusts the sleeves of his jacket. A mixture of butter and sugar is smeared across his cheek, and he smells of the vanilla extract that has spilled on the countertop. 

“How did we fuck it up this bad, Princey?”

He’s right — Virgil looks clean compared to the rest of the kitchen, and their chocolate chip cookies, still raw but sitting on baking sheets, are mostly a buttery liquid. 

“I’m not quite sure, my dear. But this definitely is not correct.” 

Virgil leaps up onto the countertop, narrowly avoiding a pile of spilled brown sugar. Roman walks over and stands between his knees, resting his arms on Virgil’s shoulders. “No shit. Go put them in the oven, I want to know what they taste like.” 

Roman complies. “Do you think fifteen minutes is alright?” Virgil shrugs, and Roman sets the timer for seventeen minutes — just to be safe. He returns to his former place, and Virgil leans down to place a soft kiss on his lips. He tastes solely of flour. Roman grimaces, exaggerating a bit for the sake of hearing Virgil's laugh. He gets what he wants, a soft chuckle as Virgil knocks his forehead against Roman's own.

"I'm that gross, huh?" There's no malice behind Virgil's question, just a joking sort of sarcasm.

"Downright disgusting. The flour you're coated in has absolutely nothing at all to do with it." Roman kisses him again, this time ignoring the thin layer of ingredients that coats them both. It takes a few moments — and Patton's footsteps nearing the kitchen — for them to separate. Roman doesn't hear Patton approaching, or doesn't seem to care, and is forced backwards as Virgil slides off the counter and scrambles to put distance between them.

Patton appears at last, and stands almost awkwardly in the entrance to the nearly-destroyed room.

"Oh, are you two baking? I'm so glad to see you getting along! What's in the oven?" He bounces over and turns on the oven light to glance inside. His investigation reveals little, and it takes Virgil's hoarse response for him to figure it out.

"Cookies. Chocolate chip. They, uh, aren't looking too hot." Virgil clears his throat, crosses his arms over his chest, glances over a Roman. 

"Well, of  _ course  _ they're hot!" Patton announces. "They're in the oven!" Roman laughs, and Virgil shakes his head. "But I see what you mean. They should be fine though!"

Roman nods hopefully, hazarding another glance at Virgil, who raises his eyebrows.

"Sure, buddy." Virgil's doubt is obvious, but it does nothing to curb Patton's cheery demeanor.

"Well, you kids have fun. And good luck with those cookies!" Without another word, he bounds out of the kitchen.

Roman waits until he hears Patton running up the stairs to approach Virgil again. He still has his arms crossed, though Roman isn't sure if it's defensive or comforting — Virgil has been known to use the gesture as both. Roman gives a small smile, though Virgil is hesitant to return it.

He asks first about the thing he's most worried about. "Are you alright?"

Virgil nods, almost tiredly, and sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just not really comfortable broadcasting my feelings to the world. Or to Patton." His gaze focuses on some invisible point to Roman's left. Roman tries and fails to catch his eye, but deems it unimportant. He grabs Virgil's hand.

"That's okay. If this is how you're most comfortable, we'll keep it a secret. Besides, that could be fun! Just imagine, it's like a movie. We're forbidden lovers, from opposing families with a decades old rivalry. Gay Romeo and Juliet."

Virgil grins again. "So, we're both going to die is what you're saying?"

Spurred on by Virgil's hand tightening in his own, Roman pulls him into a hug. "You know what I meant," he says into Virgil's hair. He gets a short laugh in response.

"Yeah, I suppose." Roman can feel Virgil's breath as he speaks, warm and soft against his shoulder. Roman cups his cheek, kisses him gently. He gets only a second to admire Virgil's eyes and his light dusting of freckles before he presses his face into the crook of Roman's neck.

"Thank you," he says. 

"For what?"

"For being you, you big dummy. And for not being an ass. I'm sure it took some effort." Roman can feel Virgil smiling against his skin.

"Of course, my darling." Roman's response is whispered, so quiet Virgil can barely hear, but his hands grip the back of Roman's shirt, and Roman knows he understood. They don't move for a while, each trying to drink in the other's presence and store it away for future reminiscing. 

The oven beeps loudly and insistently, and Virgil again jumps away from Roman, this time searching for the elusive oven mitts. As he looks, Roman opens the oven door to peer in at the cookies, which look nothing like they did when they were put in. At last, Virgil returns with the mitts, shoving Roman out of the way so he can remove the cookies. He stops to stare at them after he's placed the tray on the stovetop.

"Roman."

"Yes, dearest?" Neither Virgil nor Roman takes their eyes off the cookies in front of them.

"What did we do?"

Roman, the braver of the two, attempts to lift one of the cookies from the pan, but it proves to be a challenge when he burns his hand. There also is no clear separation between individual treats — the tray is a blackened mess of burnt dough and sizzling chocolate chips, all blending into each other. 

Virgil grabs a spatula. He tries to slip it under the mass, but it stays firmly stuck to its pan. He resorts to a knife as Roman holds back a laugh. Finally, he chips off a piece, which he snaps in half. He offers a part to Roman, who takes it, if reluctantly. They bite into the cookie at the same time, maintaining eye contact, an unspoken challenge — who can eat more of their collaborative monstrosity. Virgil wins when Roman spits the baked goods into the nearby trash can, mumbling about how he can't eat any more of this.

Virgil frowns as he chokes down the bite of charred cookie, and joins Roman at the garbage can to toss the rest of it.

"I think we should leave the baking to Logan," Virgil states. "Specs probably enjoys the chemical reactions or whatever."

Roman laughs. "Of everyone you'd expect to be good at this…" 

"We should probably clean this up, though."

Roman groans, and Virgil reaches up to press a small kiss to his cheek. 

"Maybe later?" Virgil can feel Roman's lips brushing against his own as he speaks.

Virgil closes the gap between them. "I suppose," he says against Roman's mouth. He feels Roman smile.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is such a fuckin strange fic im sorry about the weird tonal shift in the middle idk how to write coherently


End file.
